


Newt and the Egg

by gundamoocow



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Other, Oviposition, egg insertion, the great outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundamoocow/pseuds/gundamoocow
Summary: Newt Scamander runs his hand through sweaty hair. This expedition is not going as planned. Not one bit. The large purple creature before him, one of several of a previously undocumented species he had been tracking, is already beginning to disintegrate, and the shiny, pearly egg that once sat in its pouch is rapidly beginning to cool.Fast. He has to think fast.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please take this garbage fic as my first offering to this fandom.
> 
> I hope I'm not kicked out immediately XD

Newt Scamander runs his hand through sweaty hair. This expedition is not going as planned. Not one bit. The large purple creature before him, one of several of a previously undocumented species he had been tracking, is already beginning to disintegrate, and the shiny, pearly egg that once sat in its pouch is rapidly beginning to cool.

 _Fast._ He has to think fast. He can’t possibly let the offspring suffer the same fate as its parent. The illness that befell the creature is clearly the cause of this; from the last month of observation, he saw three others of its kind carry their eggs to term and then look after their fragile young. The natural life cycle, therefore, is not to blame.

If only he had his suitcase! It was made patently clear to him that he would never be able to bring it into the United States again, so all he has with him is a knapsack full of essentials for survival and a collection of flasks, vials, and jars. The egg must be kept warm at a temperature not very different from the body temperature of a human. If the offspring is to survive, he needs to get back to his base camp in Canada, which he discovered has far more favourable laws for keeping magical creatures than the United States, as soon as possible. He still has to smuggle the egg across the border somehow, without an incubator or any spells. He’s a _person of interest_ now, doomed to always undergo extensive questioning and baggage search when travelling in and out of this country.

He looks at the egg again.

_Think, Newt, think!_

There is an option. It’s not ideal, but it will have to do.

Once he makes the decision, he doesn’t allow himself any more time to linger. He kicks off his shoes, unbuckles his belt, drops his trousers, his underwear. The creature’s pearl-like egg is the size of a goose egg, bigger than anything he’s had before, but not impossible. He fires off two spells in the direction of the egg, one to remove any traces of possibly infectious slime and one to cast a protective warming cocoon. From experience, he knows that eggs rarely thrive under such circumstances, but it should do until he’s ready. Next, he rummages through his bag until he finds the large jar of slime secretions that he managed to collect from another one of these creatures. The eggs sit in a suspension of it in the creature’s pouch and Newt did not suffer any skin problems after touching it so far. Of course, what Newt is about to do now is completely untested.

He rolls up his sleeves and pours a small helping of the slime over one hand. It’s highly lubricating, despite its viscosity. It should do nicely. With a deep breath, he reaches behind himself and pushes one meager finger inside himself. He’s worryingly tight, and the finger is far smaller than the egg.

_Now is not the time to panic!_

Newt closes his eyes, thinks of the good deed he is trying to do, and tries to relax. It doesn’t help. Not really. The fingering feels as awkward and uncomfortable as ever.

Perhaps he would do better to think of something pleasant. As he slides in a second slimy finger, he thinks back to his observations of the mating rituals of merpeople and the unusual prehensile penis of the male of the species. He tried to replicate it by enchanting a personal massager at home, with varying levels of success. It may not have been an accurate replica in function, but nonetheless, Newt enjoyed the feeling of it wiggling around inside him on many a night.

By the time he adds a third finger, he’s hard. _It will make things easier_ , he thinks as he wraps his free hand around his erection. He pumps it slowly while thrusting his slick fingers in and out of himself. It’s starting to feel good. When he slides a fourth finger in, he allows himself to look at the egg again. It seems more manageable, now that Newt has worked most of his hand in up to his knuckles.

He withdraws his hand and pours more slime onto it. Newt surmises that it’s important that there is plenty of it for the egg, so he tries to push some inside without a great deal of success.

 _The eyedropper!_ How silly of him to forget such a crucial tool. He pulls it from his sample collection kit, trying his best not to spread slime all over his bag. The dropper is perhaps half an inch in diameter. He uses it to extract slime from the jar, then positions himself so he’s lying sideways on the ground. Carefully, he inserts it, trying not to jab anything sensitive with the tip. He squeezes the bulb, then withdraws it again and repeats the process. Doing this is unexpectedly arousing, and as he squeezes more and more slime inside, he strokes himself vigorously with his other hand, now also coated in the viscous, slippery fluid.

When he manages to get approximately one cup of slime inside of him, he decides that it’s time for the egg. He sits up and scoots over to it, admiring it reverently. It’s not only pearly, but iridescent, he realises now. Carefully, he picks it up. At this stage of development, its shell is thankfully rather hard and extremely unlikely to break during insertion.

“Time to slick you up and get you inside,” he whispers to the egg as he dips his fingers in the jar to scoop up as much slime as he can. The egg glitters as he spreads the slime all over it, coating it fully. Unlike earlier, the egg now looks appealing. Newt _wants_ it inside of him, craves it. He licks his lips.

At first, he tries lying on his side like earlier, but each time he tries to push the egg in, it slips in his hands. After several attempts, he tries kneeling with his legs spread and lowering himself down like that. This seems to work; he can feel the tip of the egg breaching him. As he pushes down further, he feels himself stretch around the rapidly widening egg until he can go no further, stopped by a painful burn. He feels around his rim to see how far along he is.

The realisation that hardly any of the egg is inside is crushing. He needs to work harder. Discomfort he can deal with, but a serious injury out in the wilderness he cannot, so trying to shove it in quickly is out of the question. Maybe if fucks himself with the egg, it will gradually go in.

Newt blushes at the thought. _Fucking himself. With an egg._

Embarrassingly, the lewd thought spurs him on and he does actually start _fucking_ the egg enthusiastically, relishing the stretch rather than dreading it. He needs both hands to hold the egg in place, leaving his swollen, slime-covered cock bouncing freely. This is one thing, he thinks, that he will _not_ document in his journal.

“Oh!” Newt cries out as a particularly hard thrust forces the egg even further in. He’s close to the widest part now, so close, and it feels so good. He wants more -- more stretch, more _filling_.

_Just a little bit further!_

He can’t lower himself any more while kneeling, but he has enough grip that he can push the egg up. _It’s only a little more_ , he tells himself. One big push, and it will be in. He counts down in his head, giving the egg a small push with each count. Three, two, one, _push_.

It’s stretching. It’s _unbearably_ stretching, but he can’t turn back now. At the widest part, he cries out, howling like an animal, and then suddenly the pressure gives and the egg gets sucked all the way inside.

He’s panting, gasping for breath, but he did it. _He did it_. Unable to resist it any further, Newt’s hand shoots to his cock, and within half a minute, he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life.

Only then, he allows himself to collapse onto the ground. He lays there, coming down from the high of his orgasm, but not from the high of his _achievement_.

The egg is heavy. He can feel it inside. He can--

He feels a movement. A kick, a sign of life. He laughs out loud, glad that this wasn’t for nought.

Once he recovers his strength, it is imperative that he collects more samples from the dead creature, and then he needs to make his way to his makeshift lab in Canada with the utmost urgency. By his reckoning, it will take around twenty-four hours to get back. Hopefully there will be no egg-related complications along the way.

The egg kicks once again, and suddenly Newt is not so sure.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all canon, I swear.
> 
> You can follow me on [tumblr](https://agent-nemesis.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Edit: only after writing this fic, I became aware of the existence of [this pop figure.](https://www.amazon.co.uk/Fantastic-Beasts-Funko-Action-Figure/dp/B01K9IO3PA)


End file.
